Future Tense, (Part three)

The dead ships were slowly revealing their secrets. It became clear that the Chief wasn't the one that had killed the fleet. Instead it was a kill-switch activated when the entity controlling the network deemed it compromised.

The Avatar was less than impressed, " Definitely hivemind, nothing else makes such stupid decisions so quickly. I'm digging through their biology. Right now it looks like a Man of War with a keyboard attached."

The Ambassador agreed. " We have a few solutions available for the more aggressive hiveminds. None of them sound like a good time. Do we stay or do we go?" The Longshot was torn. Her mission was get the crew home, not muck about in the deep. Still, even a plastic and titanium nano-built human was still a human.

" Let's sort this out. I doubt you want to leave your new friends to die, and I hate greedy fuckers like this. Send me your best ideas."

Their Xeno Biology expert had been dragged from her bed. Some people didn't enjoy the Big Freeze, even with their mind safety tucked away in the Ship Core.

She complained that "nothing fitted" when she woke up. She was sure that her arms used to be longer. The Longshot distracted her with a blob of alien goo. Everyone likes alien goo. The lab wasn't much, but it was clever. The Avatar was considering expanding it if things got serious. She could always create a new Avatar to help if Professor Senna needed another pair of hands.

"It's multi-celular, with a coercive/ binding cooperation factor. The goo hosts a nervous system that carries a different RNA code. It's got its own RNA code and it's very, very different. Cool. Properly Alien."

She peered back into her scanner. "Captain, it's not dead. The goo is alive, the foreign nerves are decaying though. I'd like to muck about with it. Can you send me more?" The Longshot was pleased. Sometimes you never know with squishy humans.

"We will need a scientific description of the creature. I'm sure you can find a suitable name for your discovery, Professor."

Reminded that she got the academic recognition for this, the Professor seemed to find that her arms were exactly long enough to grab the credit.

The Hammel Station was getting a little concerned. All the Human seemed to talk about was food. The 'Curry' was seriously good, though. He interrupted his host, still extolling the virtues of tumeric.

"Yes, I'm sure it's lovely. However, I have an enemy fleet outside. Your bots are all over it! Are you refusing to tell us what they are?" The Human Diplomat put down his fork, " Pity, I was hoping to finish the meal first. Fine. You are facing a malignant Hivemind. It has better technology than you, hence the shields. It won't understand politics, it doesn't value individuals and it has absolutely no conscience. If we hadn't turned up, it would currently be melting you down for parts. The Longshot will send you the details. Does that help?"

The Avatar for the Hammel went offline.

"See, I knew that would happen" muttered the Ambassador, as he picked up his fork again.

The Chief Engineer was up to his armpits in goo. Pulling out, scanning and investigating every bit of technology this creature had was the key. Every species left their history and politics written on their machines.

The Eells Axiom was clear:

"There's always a reason. Find it before it kills you."

He remembered as a mere apprentice being shown a series of designs, working out what the Xenos had come up with. A standard humanoid species, nothing special. He had failed to find out why it was important, as had everyone else. Then it was explained. The story was that Eells had been left-handed and got seriously pissed off when handling this species tech. When he said that to the Xenos, they tried to cut off his hand. Turned out that they were seriously, murderously superstitious about being left-handed. After a vigorous discussion about ethics, genetic variation and the use of force, Eells had piloted the ship home alone. Lesson learned.

Being a Xeno Biologist isn't usually a panic inducing profession. Generally it's poking at the weird and wonderful stuff that the universe provides. When she ran the simulation, trying to find out what the goo really was, she wasn't expecting much. Watching the goo RNA reconstruct was a nightmare. These were people. Oddly shaped, designed for a heavy world and with slightly more limbs than she would expect, but clearly an independent entity. It had no characteristics of a hive mind, more like a herbivore. Then it had been rendered into soup, made to serve something else. She went straight to the Captain. "We have to stop this! It's evil! How many species had this creature stolen? We need to do something!'

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The Longshot tried to explain "We are one ship. Even if we wish to, I don't know how to rescue, whatever this soup was. Perhaps when we get back home.." The Professor wasn't about to listen. "I don't care. We know what it has done and we know what will happen if we leave. You're the Captain. Find a way."

The Hammel avatar rebooted as the Ambassador drank his coffee."Welcome back. I assume you would like to arrange a meeting? Please, have some dessert. I know my people are busy at the moment."

The Hammel nodded. "You're right of course. The Imperium is sending a fleet, as well as a bunch of higher level Diplomatic staff. I'm afraid I will no longer be responsible for our relationship. That does, however, leave time for cake."

The Longshot began by talking quietly to all her crew. Without fail they wanted to stay and fight. Even with all the empathy conditioning that she had as a sentient AI, and fully paid-up human citizen, she was surprised by the reaction. Simply going home would be, apparently, a shameful and unthinkable act. Now she had to figure out what to do next.

The Imperium fleet began to arrive. The government had called in forces from all over its space, all arriving from different places and at different speeds. Simply for ease of communications, the Hammel Station was left, to his surprise, in place as spokesperson for the Imperium.

It was the same room as his first meeting with the Imperium, but this time it was packed. Even an AI could smell the fear in the crowd. Aliens could be difficult to read sometimes, but physical differences meant nothing when a sentient creature was facing death and war. The Hammel Avatar stood to make the introductions. "Imperium members, first I would like to introduce the Captain of the Human Planning Ship Longshot. She will then take questions. Please introduce yourself briefly before asking anything." The room stirred again when the Avatar herself took the podium. "A pleasure to meet you all. I am the Longshot, Captain of the ship and the ship itself. I am aware that such arrangements are uncommon in your civilisation, but commonplace in mine. Please, ask your questions.

The General who had referred to her as a toaster was the first to speak. "Captain, I wish to apologize to you and your crew for my earlier rudeness. I meant no disrespect." With that he sat back down. Longshot wondered how much pressure he was under, to be forced to apologize so publicly. "General, consider it forgotten." Privately she added 'but not forgiven'.

Director Heltan then rose to speak. "Perhaps, Captain, you could share with us what you know of this threat? Your Diplomat was quite terrifying in his description."

The Longshot nodded." Of course. Unfortunately, he is a diplomat and, believe it or not, he was being understated. From our investigation of the Scythe ships, it's a single hivemind. It expands by absorbing other lifeforms and using the results to grow. Our Xeno Biologist has isolated the RNA/DNA of over four hundred species on the ships. That doesn't, of course, tell us much. We are working to describe each species. So far, they come from a multitude of planet types. I am forwarding the Hammel our research. I suggest you allow him to disperse it to the appropriate sciences."

The room turned to chaos. Everyone started shouting questions, rising as one to demand answers, help. There were cries of "Liar!" and other unhelpful comments. The Longshot waited. Eventually, when it became clear that she had no intention of responding until peace was restored, the room regained some order. The Hammel apologized for the disorder, "Please, Captain, continue." The Station security officers were now prominently visible.

"Thank you. I have outlined the scale of the enemy you face. Now, for the good news. My crew and I will remain here to help. We have resources unavailable to you, in fact we will offer resources far beyond that which we normally permit to be shared on first contact. However, we feel without help, there won't be a second contact. We can't save you, but we can certainly help you to save yourselves."

Again the room turned to chaos. The promise of salvation was even more disruptive than the fear of destruction.

This time the Hammel didn't wait, he raised the audio to the maximum and bellowed at the room. " Enough! We cannot learn anything in this noise. The Longshot has agreed to meet each of you separately. She will remain here, on my station, to answer your questions. Please schedule your appointments through me. Certain Imperium specialists will be invited into the human ship for consultation. This meeting is adjourned."

The Longshot was sharing a beer with her Diplomatic Advisor. She had to ask. "Are you sure that was the best way to do it? It turned the meeting to chaos!"

"Yes, but it was always going to be chaos, didn't matter how we tried it. This way, everyone is embarrassed about their behaviour and we only have to deal with the Hammel himself. Actually, we worked it out between us."

"You squishy people are all the same, it doesn't seem to matter what you look like. Very well done. I'd better be meeting the military first, though." The diplomat paused in raising his drink. "Oh, anything I should know about?"

"Perhaps. I am detecting a large fleet arriving. I doubt they're friendly. Don't worry, they won't be here until tomorrow."

Adri decided to worry anyway, off the clock. Freelance worrying, best enjoyed with a beer. The Longshot spent the night creating some surprises, just in case the malevolent and ravenous entity on the way wouldn't listen to polite conversation.